


When Morning Comes

by timahina



Series: ZarcRay Week 2019 [5]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Ares and Aphrodite AU, F/M, ZarcRay Week (Yu-Gi-Oh)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 21:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18185942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timahina/pseuds/timahina
Summary: Love and War are the same.





	When Morning Comes

_“Who does she think she is?”_

_“Ugh, the way she parades herself around – it’s unsightly!”_

_“She’s seducing her way through the pantheon, did you know?”_

_“The Sun God was first.”_

_“Oh, and the Messenger I’ve heard it said.”_

_“I’m sure she’d be after the Lord of the Underworld if he ever came up from his lair.”_

_“Oh, Fate forbid!”_

_“Wasn’t she told to marry already?”_

_“Which among us would be fool-hardy enough to marry her?”_

_“Or lucky enough!”_

_“Goddess of Love and Beauty – not of fidelity.”_

_“I’d be the biggest fool to seek her hand.”_

_“I’d happily plead for a night.”_

_“Who’s her latest victim?”_

_“A lucky God indeed!”_

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

Ray sighed again, holding her head high as the gossip echoed around her. She had endured another lecture to marry since she had once more sparked another feud over who’d be blessed with her hand. But she wasn’t involved in said feud, merely the root of it – Ray wasn’t even in the vicinity of the fools when they set foot and charged toward each other and yet she was still blamed for it. It was _dangerous_ for a goddess of her stature and station to remain unwedded.

She clicked her tongue in irritation.

They all argued around her, strutting around like feathered peacocks and used all sorts of reasons for why they deserved her.

 _‘She spent three days with me!’_ one would say.

 _‘Oh? I’ve had her for a week!’_ another cried out.

They’d argue the time she spent with them meant they satisfied her. They could love her and tame the love goddess and enjoy taming her nightly. Ray squirmed as they described the methods of taming, making her obedient and doting.

Loyal even.

After each feud, she would retreat to her temples – denying the world her presence and intensifying their want of her. Their echoes cornered throughout every corner of the world and she would laugh and smile and wave, their patience waning as their love only increased. And she would return.

And the feuds would commence.

And the cycle continued, angering the other goddesses – even some of the gods who weren’t fighting over her would shake their heads in shame over the debacle. There were a few that had the self-awareness to realize how she strung them along out of sheer delight.

“You’re a wicked sort of goddess – aren’t you, Ray?”

Ray whipped her head around, her lips turned to a pout as her eyes narrowed. There was the War God, leaning against a pillar with a smug grin plastered upon his handsome face. He was one of the few gods who would laugh at the others fighting over her, calling them all such fools. And ironically, he was the one she _wished_ would take up arms for her. “Wicked?” She feigned a gasp and hurt tone in her voice. “My dearest Zarc, I’m baffled how you could say such things! I only care for beautiful things – love and beauty are what I adore, not petty squabbles. I believe that’s more your terrain.”

He scoffed. The bite in her words was hardly hidden.

“You believe war to be petty?”

“Depends on the war but… you are probably more aware of wars than I am. From what I’ve seen, they’re not _nearly_ as beautiful as the poets describe. Actually, they give me quite a headache. Just as you do with your foul words.”

“What have I said that’s foul?” Zarc shrugged his shoulders, his grin increasing. “I call you wicked – you should take that as a compliment. Hell, in another world – you’d make a decent war deity from how you inspire the worst of our brethren.”

She gripped onto her dress, trying not to show how his words cut so deeply into her that he sheathed his sword in her back and his insults etched into her skull. “I inspire… I suppose devotion.”

“Odd way to say madness.”

Ray stood up. “You tire me, Zarc.” He always tired her, he did not fall to his knees and grab the hem of her dress, begging for a night in her bed. He never made threats against any of the gods for daring to come near her. He never publicly declared such an interest in her and that’s what infuriated her the most. Ray knew. She knew _damn well_ that he leered at her. More often than not, she felt his eyes on her.

Eyes that have searched along battlefields and watched men spill their blood in his name for his glory roamed her body, a different kind of lust in that gaze. And she knew such things – all it took was a single glance, she could see very plainly his intentions, what was in his heart. And yet, not once had he come to her. Zarc had yet to demand her, offer what he could for her hand.

For him, she’d _think_ about it which was a more generous offer than what she gave the others.

But he refused to give her so much as an inch and so, Ray dissipated – wanting away from his presence and back in her temples to scream and let loose all the frustrations festering within her belly.

With a visage of smoke, she was back in her domain and in peace. Surrounded by marble floor and silver columns and quiet, merely the cooing of her doves and the wind rustling her bushes as the scent of roses filled the air. Such a tranquil setting for her as she shed her clothes and stepped into the pond, enjoying the warm air as the sun slowly began to set. She didn’t want to think about the trappings of marriage, of having to bend to a husband’s every petty whim and desire. To be paraded about Olympus as though she were a prized bull as her husband would brag how she liked to be ridden. And even then, he would not be satisfied with her bed alone. That would be a greater shame for her stature. And she’d be looked upon with pity of her former glory.

She grimaced at the thought and chills ran down her arms as she sunk deeper.

For the goddess of love, that’s what she lacked amongst her peers.

They hurled their pettiness, their jealousy, their lust all at her and she took it gladly. Yet not one offered that which she so desperately desired. “Am I so hard to love?” She sighed, removing the pins from her hair as it cascaded down her back and into the waters.

Maybe she should give it serious thought.

But among the gods of her choice… they were all such a pain; a nuisance and she didn’t dare imagine what kind of foolish children she’d be forced to bring into the world. She’d probably drown them as an act of mercy. If she didn’t decide, the King of the Gods would decide for her. He’d pick the ugliest for punishment for all the uproar she caused. Or perhaps the wisest – to bore her.

The most charming, to anger her.

The most handsome, to see the goddess’ hair turn grey from jealousy at his wandering eye.

Ray screamed as she stood straight up, hitting the water over and over again. Every choice was awful, worse than the next! She wished she could bring down a rain of fire or pestilence upon the populace to warn the other gods not to meddle, but unfortunately – she had no such pomp.

She stilled, ceased to hit her fists upon the water as she felt another god’s presence in her temple. She got out of her pond, grabbing a cloth to wrap herself with lest she shiver from the cold and they think it an invitation for ravishment.

What God would dare trespass? She hadn’t extended a single invitation for tonight; she wished to be alone and she’d do all within her power to remain as such. And she wandered her temple, listening to the sound of hoofs clacking and the wheels of a chariot.

“Reveal yourself to me right now!” Her voice was commanding as it echoed throughout her sacred grove.

Ray waited for a few moments, trying to see who was the stupid soul that dared touch a nerve. And out about the corner appeared a war chariot and Zarc, fully dressed in his attire and a helmet adorning his head. Good, she couldn’t be distracted by his most daring grin. He hopped off, giving her a mock bow. “My dearest lady, there’s no-”

“Drop the act – what are you doing here?” Ray wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries, least of all from him.

“Now Ray, you mustn’t be rude. I had a whole speech prepared for you – especially for how quickly you left me.” For once, his eyes weren’t on her. The one time she was in front of him in the most vulnerable state of barely dressed.

Ray huffed. “You are _definitely_ not allowed to lecture me in my home. Now get out already, I’m not in the mood for company.” There were many nights before this where she had been, desiring the company of the War God nonetheless. But she had her pride to consider, she would not beg.

Zarc stepped forward and pulled on the wrist that was not holding the cloth up. She whined at his tight grip. He never laid a hand on her before and it was a rough touch at that. His teeth were grit and Ray could see the maddening fire of war within his golden eyes. The cockiness of the grin from before had vanished completely and in its stead was a streak of bitterness – perhaps sheer rage. “I grow tire of watching experiencing the sunset alone, My Lady. Of all the suitors, why am I the only one not invited to lounge here? All others get a turn, sometimes twice – how much more patience do you expect me to have? Surely you don’t expect me to beg.” He pulled her body flush against his and her hold on the cloth loosened in her surprise at his words. His hands wandered down her arms and Ray was stunned that he didn’t pull her cover away, push her to the grass but instead was just… complaining.

That was different.

“I… I’ve never heard you speak of your desire to own me as the others did. I am no seer, I cannot know what’s in your mind.”

She had never felt such sheer shock, more so when he grabbed her chin and tilted her head back. “Own you? Dearest Lady, how do I _own_ the very essence of madness?” Others would recite poetry of her beauty, how her long red hair rivaled the lushness of plums, and larks envied the songs she spun. The moon stole its light from her skin and her smile would be enough to ignite the sun. They’d speak of her perfect breasts, her alluring hips – any such compliment, she’d heard them all. But madness, the _essence_ of madness was new. And not something she was used to. And the doubt was clear on her face and Zarc nodded, reading her easily as he would a book. “There are many goddesses who are… beautiful. That is a commodity that’s easily found. From what I hear, love is a soft thing. Nurturing and sweet. And within your dainty hands, you evoke such madness upon us who must rise above such pettiness. You, my dearest dove… you are terrifying.”

He called her terrifying.

Was that a compliment…?  For the god of war, inspiring terror and chills upon the battlefield as men became monsters and unleashed their callous nature upon each other – she supposed it was one. For Zarc, to call her terrifying, when he was meant to embody terror…

Ray wanted to turn away and she easily could as he removed his hand from her chin. But instead, she stayed where she was at – her breathing slightly quickened as he took her hands within his own. His were rough and calloused, no doubt from the weapons and battles he fought. And she wanted those hands and the roughness they promised.

“I know what madness is, my dove. I see it daily.”

“And you find madness… attractive?”

“I find it intoxicating. And if I have to see one more puffed up peacock around here failing to please you and instead dares to squander you to a meek field daisy, I’ll-”

“-you’ll challenge said puffed up peacock?” The corners of her mouth twitched upward as the cover completely loosened as she pressed herself completely to Zarc, the cloth held up between them from their weight alone. She was finally getting what she wanted. She’d made this god beg. “Do you find yourself worthy of my hand?”

He snickered. “I’m worthy of your time. As for the matter of your hand… as I said, I do not wish to own you.” Her shoulders stiffened and her jaw slacked, ready to pull away. Anticipating her, Zarc wrapped his arm around her waist and she gasped. “But I have a feeling… you don’t wish for that either. As much as I love lost causes – excuses to fight, picking up arms against every other suitor sounds tiring. And the surest way to push you from my arms.”

He was not begging her as she wanted, as all the others had. Her stratagem had proved faulty.

However.

Out of all the gods who pushed their way to her, rioted and fought and demanded her – he was the first not to undermine her. She had hoped he would fight maybe one; if just to show that he was a contender. To give her a reason to come to him after sundown and share his bed without embarrassing herself. “Am I welcomed, my dove? Or must I wait my turn?”

Her fingers traced the lining of his cloak, her nails scaping at the armor that adorned his chest. He was putty in her hands and she knew it. He admitted it, embraced such an outcome. But she would not admit that she had been eager for him for so long and knowing that he had spent such time complimenting her rather than mocking, Ray wished she had folded in her lot sooner – ran into his arms and damned the consequences of her pride.


End file.
